What It's Like To Be Supoenaed

March 24, 2023 (Vol. 17 No. 16) - Former President Trump's attorney is scheduled to appear today before a Washington federal grand jury to testify about the mishandling - I'd call it theft - of classified documents. It's an unusual case as attorneys do not normal testify against their clients - except when the client may have tried to use attorney-client privilege to circumvent the law. It's not a pleasant thing to be subpoenaed. I know because I have been subpoenaed three times. The first time was in 1976 when I was the news director of a radio station in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. A local dentist had been indicted on Medicare fraud and I had interviewed the district attorney about the case. The defendant accused the DA of violating ethical standards by participating in the interview and subpoenaed me and my tape of the interview. The problem was that I worked for a small town radio station, which meant I used my cassette tapes over and over again. By the time I was served, I had used the audio cassette to cover other stories. I thought, "Oh crap, I'm going to jail." Fortunately, I didn't. Actually, it was my testimony that I had gotten most of my information on the case from the subpoena I had received from the defense that blew the whole complaint out of the water. (By the way, the dentist was convicted.) The second time I was subpoenaed was as a reporter in upstate New York. This time, I was subpoenaed by no less than William Kunstler, famous for his defense of the Chicago 7 following the riots at the 1968 Democratic Convention. I'm not going to go into the details of that case, although it may be worthy of a future blog post. I will say this: Kunstler was one weird dude. The last time I was subpoenaed was in 1991 while serving as chief spokesman for the North Carolina Department of Correction. Some jackass of an inmate had escaped from one of our minimum custody facilities. He was eventually caught in Kansas. I was served a subpoena, along with about a dozen other people. The inmate had claimed that by doing my job and telling the world that he had escaped and that we were looking for him, I had placed his life in danger. (Really. That's just one of hundreds of dumbass defenses used by inmates-turned-Perry Mason during my four years as the spokesman for North Carolina's prisons.) I wasn't worried about the case. But I was told I'd have to testify the very same day I was scheduled to fly to (ironically) Kansas to interview for a position on the faculty at the KU School of Journalism. I considered ignoring the subpoena - I really wanted the job. However, I didn't fancy being a guest in one of my own prisons. In the end, I had the state Attorney General's office stipulate that my assistant could take my place on the stand. As it turned out, the suit was quashed and order was restored to the universe. (And, of course, I got the job!) Because of my experiences, I have some empathy for Trump's attorney. But not that much. After all: If you do the crime, you do the time. That's it for now. Fear the Turtle.